Oh, My Life Is Strange
by team-percy7
Summary: What was life like for Luke Castellan before he ran away? Luke's life in sixth grade. R&R, please!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own Luke or May Castellan! Sorry for the shortness, I'm lazy tonight. Enjoy =]**

I stepped off the bus and kicked a Beanie toy from the sidewalk. Kids stared out the windows of the bus, some gawking, and some laughing.

"Later, Beanie Boy!" An obnoxious eighth grader yelled. I grunted and trudged into the house, where Mom greeted me with Kool-Aid and peanut butter sandwiches, like usual. I ignored her. I loved her and all, but still. She was a total psycho. And not just your regular mom psycho, no. She was crazy. She thinks my dad is some god or something. We have pictures of freaking caducei all over the house. I trip over one daily.

I walked into my bedroom and threw myself on the bed. My first day in middle school had not gone well. I woke up this morning and my hair refused to stay put, so I went to school with a bed head. I needed a haircut, but I wasn't about to let Mom do it again. If she went into one of those fits while cutting my hair, my life would be over, and my hair would be even worse.

Next, I had English first period. I was both dyslexic and ADHD, so that is not a good mix with first period English. We're reading some book about Amelia Earhart, you know, that chick that flew across the Atlantic? To make things worse, the English teacher called on me to read out loud. Reading in my head is a nightmare, and reading out loud is nearly impossible. Kids laughed and snickered while I stuttered over the easiest words. They made me nervous, so the words spiraled around the page even more than they usually did. One girl just looked at me and smiled encouragingly. I think her name was Sam. She was a pretty cute girl, with straight brown hair and blue eyes with a splash of freckles across her nose.

I stayed in my bedroom for a couple of hours and attempted to do my homework, but failed anyway. Mom made dinner, but burnt it. Like always. While I was setting the table, a caduceus fell from the wall onto my head. Oh, my life is strange.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, I'm going to attempt a chapter of ONE-THOUSAND WORDS! * gasp! * You guys should also check out my new story, Sneakers. Go to my pro to see it. Also, I'm sorry if the thoughts and/or dialogue sounds kind of awkward, it's really weird to be writing in a boy's perspective. Obviously, I do not own Luke or May Castellan. Enjoy!**

I sat at my own lunch table for the first week of school. I came from a small town. There were two elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school. I knew all the kids in my elementary and none in the other one. I didn't have any friends in either. I've always been the kind of kid who got in trouble all the time, even if I didn't do anything. I had that kind of look, you know? My blond hair was usually messy, and I wore a t-shirt and jeans to school every day. I have sharp features: a pointed ski-slope nose, big blue eyes, and thin eyebrows. It's not that teachers didn't like me; I was a nice kid, but I was tough, because of Mom. Teachers were just…wary of me, I guess you would put it.

Anyway, I sat at an empty lunch table for the first week of school. Finally, that Friday, someone came to sit with me.

"Hi," she said, sticking out her hand. "I'm Sam Nicholson. I just moved here from Philadelphia. Are you new, too?" She plopped down next to me and took a brown bag lunch from her backpack. She began eating a turkey sandwich.

"I'm…uh, I'm Luke Castellan. I'm not new here, I was actually born here." Her outgoingness surprised me. She wasn't going to fit in here; I knew that from the start. Her eyes got big.

"You were born here? _In this very school_?" She kept her eyes big, as if she was serious. I smiled, and she did too. We sat and talked about stuff for a while. Then she noticed I didn't have any lunch.

"You don't have lunch?" she asked, concerned. "Here, have some sandwich." She handed me half of her turkey sandwich. I pushed it away.

"No, I have lunch, I just don't really like what my mom packed…and she won't let me pack my own. She thinks I'm still a baby, since I'm her only child."

"Take it out." She motioned towards my backpack.

"No, it's okay," I chuckled.

"Take it out." She repeated.

"Fine." I unzipped my backpack and took out the paper bag. I extracted the overly peanut buttered sandwich, the Kool-Aid packet, the apple, and the burned cookies. I took the apple and bit into it; it was the only thing in there that was edible. Her eyebrows furrowed as she picked up the soggy sandwich.

"Your mom sure likes peanut butter, huh?" I nodded. "Does your dad cook any better?" I froze. It was a touchy subject, but I knew I wasn't alone; plenty of kids had divorced parents. This was different, though. I figured that my dad was dead, the way my mom was obsessed with him. But Mom insisted that he was alive, and that he would never die, since he was, in her words, "the great god Hermes."

"I don't have a dad," I responded quietly. "He left before I was born."

"Oh," she said. "I don't have a dad, either. He died in the army." We had a moment of silence for our dads, and then continued talking. I learned that she was twelve, since she had to miss a year of school when her dad was moved to the Middle East. She also lived down the street from me. She had a little eight-year-old brother named Max. I told her that I would love to have a little brother, so she said I could have Max. We talked and talked until lunch was over.

I had finally made a friend.

We sat with each other every day at lunch at sat next to each other in English class. After a couple of weeks of this, she asked me over her house. I said yes.

Sam had a nice house. It was a bit bigger than mine, and had a perfectly manicured front lawn. There was a small stream in her backyard. Her mom was a really nice lady with brown hair like Sam's and brown eyes. She gave us lemonade and chicken nuggets as a snack. Max ate with us. He looked like a smaller version of Sam, but with shorter hair. I stayed for dinner. Mrs. Nicholson was a great cook; she made us chicken Parmesan, which I guess isn't too special, but it beats pizza or burned cookies. I walked home by myself. I couldn't risk Sam seeing my house.

It was about eight o' clock, and I had called to let Mom know I'd be home. However, the house was completely dark. My stomach flipped. This was not a good sign. I shut the door quietly.

"Mom?" I called. "Hello? Mom? Is anyone in here?" No response. I slipped off my sneakers and turned on a light. There was no one in the kitchen. I walked down the hallway where the bedrooms were. I peeked into my mom's room. And there she was.

"Mom?" I asked. "Are you okay?" She looked up at me. She was sitting on the floor, curled in fetal position. Instead of their usual blue, her eyes glowed green.

"M-mom…you're in one of your fits again, I'm just going to close the door and go to my room, okay?" I hated these fits. They terrified me, actually. I started to close there door when Mom started talking.

"You're fate," she hissed. "Not my boy, not my boy Luke…his fate is set…would never do anything like that…" I felt a lump of terror rise up in my throat.

"Mom, Mom, don't worry," I choked out. "You're right, I would never do anything like that…" I never knew what she was talking about, or what I would do, but I was hoping this would calm her down.

"Yes…yes…" The eerie green faded from her eyes, and they returned to their normal color. She remained in her position.

"Goodnight, Mom," I said, and closed the door.

**I hope you liked it! To answer a review: Luke is supposed to be OOC, because it's before he figured out that he was a half-blood. He'll become less OOC the closer he gets to fourteen, which is the age he runs away. Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh, wow! Thank you guys SO MUCH for the great reviews! This is insane! Sorry I haven't been updating, I've been distracted by my Sims game. Yes, I fail. Also, my fourteenth birthday is the 29****th****! Whoot, go me! Okay, I hope you guys like this chapter =]**

I collapsed down on my bed. My palms were clammy and my legs shook. I always felt like this after one of Mom's episodes. I hated the feeling, and the story behind it. I guess I should tell it to you.

"I'm special," she would say to me. "Your father, Hermes, saw that I was special right after I had you. I could see through the magic, but I could also see flashes of the future. So, I went to go be the oracle, but…something went wrong…" She never finished her story. I didn't know what an oracle was. The story worried me, especially now. I scrunched up into a ball on my bed and stayed there until the morning.

* * *

I dragged myself through school the next day. I had barely gotten any sleep. Standing at the bus stop, I observed the world around me. It was mid-October, and the leaves on the trees had changed. Vibrant red, oranges, and yellows stood against the bright blue sky. The sun was low; it was early in the morning. I could here the occasional skittering of leaves on pavement, blown by the soft breeze. It ruffled my hair.

"Hello," a voice next to me said. I jumped almost a foot in the air, and my face flushed a bright red. I heard a small chuckle. After calming down, I found the courage to look.

Standing there was a girl, maybe ten years old. She wore an old-fashioned, plain brown dress. Her hair was a plain brown. She had a friendly smile. She seemed like the kind of kid who would be everybody's little sister. Looking closer, I noticed her eyes. I stumbled back in fear, dropping my backpack.

"Who…what _are_ you?" I sputtered.

"I am Hestia," she announced. "Goddess of the hearth."

"Um…goddess?" I picked up my backpack. It was damp from the sidewalk.

"Yes, son of Hermes," she said. My stomach flipped. Was this a trick? Had mom sent her? Hestia's fire-red eyes seemed to look down on me. "You do not believe, I assume?"

"Believe what?" I shot back. "That my mother is insane?" Hestia sighed.

"Your father would be proud," she told me. "You're taking good care of her."

"I don't have a father." My temper was flaring.

"Oh, but you do," she answered softly, provoking my temper even more. "He is the god of messengers and thieves. His name is Hermes, and he is my nephew. You are my great-nephew, Luke." I blinked in surprise. I hadn't told her my name.

"B-but, you're, like, ten years old!" My bus pulled up and screeched to a halt.

"You shall learn your fate soon, Luke Castellan." I gaped at her. The bus doors hissed open.

"C'mon, Beanie Boy! We don't got all day!" Shouted Matt, the eighth grader who nicknamed me that first day. My head snapped towards the bus. I climbed into the steps and looked back. She was gone.

Confused, I found a seat and plugged in my Walkman. As the bus pulled away, I glanced out the window. There stood Hestia. She smiled at me. I smiled back.

* * *

I gingerly slid into my usual lunch table seat. My thighs were sore from being curled up all night. I reached into my backpack and took out my apple.

"What's up with you?" Sam plopped down next to me. "You zonked out during English class. You were asleep the whole time! Didn't say a word to me."

"Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night," I replied.

"I figured that out on my own. What's wrong?" She seemed genuinely worried.

"Nothing…it's nothing." I took a bite of my apple. She took a swig of her milk.

"It's not nothing, Luke. You have bags under your eyes." I didn't reply. "It's your mom, isn't it?" I hadn't told her much about Mom, other that she was "kind of strange."

"I…" There was no use in lying, especially to Sam. "Yeah. My mom kind of freaked last night." I shifted and winced.

"Does she hit you?"

"What? No! No, she would never hit me."

"Then why are you wincing?"

"My legs hurt. I slept in a weird position last night." Sam looked at me skeptically. "No, trust me, it's nothing like that. She just has some…mental problems, I guess you could call it." I'd say green glowing eyes and babbling about fate could be classified as mental. Sam sighed. Suddenly, she packed up her lunch and put on her jacket. She took mine from the table and tossed it at me.

"Put it on," she said. "We're ditching school. I need to meet your mom."

* * *

We ran right out of school, and no one questioned us. The middle school was too small to have security guards. We ran a couple blocks until we finally stopped. We burst into a fit of laughter. We were free!

We went the rest of the way trying to find the crunchiest leaf to step on. Sam succeeded in finding this leaf. It made a delicious _crrrrunch _when her boot went down on it.

Finally, we got to my house. My smile disappeared from my face.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"It's just…I'm not sure you want to meet my mom. She's kind of, well, you know…weird." That was only half of it. What if I saw Hestia again? What would Sam think if some little girl came up and asked how her great-nephew was? That would be really weird, too.

"It's okay," she said, and marched right through the Beanie Babies and through my front door.

**Okay, I hope you guys liked it! Please read and review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Oh my gosh, you guys! The reviews! GHAA! * dies * * comes back to life * IMMA ZOMBIE! Just kidding. But seriously, guys, these reviews are AWESOME! And you got my birthday right, ha-ha. Note: I do NOT own the dialogue from the scene below (you'll know when you get there). All credit goes to Mr. Riordan! Okay guys, enjoy!**

Sam barged through the front door and marched right into the house. I sprinted after her. She turned the corner of the hallway, into the kitchen. I could hear the clattering of the cookie sheet and Mom's chattering. This wasn't unusual; she often talked to herself. But this time, I could hear a voice responding back.

I followed Sam into the kitchen. Mom was putting the cookies into the oven. She had her apron on. Hestia was sitting at the table. Sitting on the table in front of her was an untouched glass of Kool-Aid.

"Hello, Luke," Hestia said. Mom looked up.

"Luke! Hello. Is school over already? And who's your friend?" She looked at Sam and smiled. _She's so oblivious_, I thought bitterly. A normal mom would scold me for being home so early; maybe even send me back to school. But no, not this mom. She just celebrates that her precious son is home.

"I'm Sam Nicholson," Sam replied. "Luke's friend from school." She stuck out her hand.

"I'm May," Mom said. "I'm glad that Luke has finally found a friend…" Mom chattered away with Sam. I was looking at Hestia. Actually, staring. She mesmerized me. Her eyes…

I was transported to a different scene. I was in the kitchen, but something was wrong. Tupperware with peanut butter sandwiches and plates of burned cookies lined the counter. Mom looked older; her hair had gone from gray to white. Two boys I didn't recognize sat at the table. The older one was maybe sixteen years old. He had curly black hair and green eyes. The younger one looked around thirteen. His eyes were dark, almost black. His black hair was shaggy and hung over his eyes.

"Ms. Castellan," the older boy said.

"Mom," she said. I could tell that the boy wasn't planning on calling her 'mom.'

"Um, yeah. Have you seen Luke since he left home?" What? Left home? What _was_ this, anyway?

"Well, of course!" The shaggy-haired boy gave the older boy a skeptical look.

"When? When did Luke visit you last?" The younger boy swept his hair out of his eyes. They were riddled with pain and worry. He was much to young to carry that sort of pain.

"Well it was…Oh, goodness…" I could tell that she was having trouble remembering. "The last time, he looked so different. A scar. A terrible scar, and voice so full of pain…" A scar? I didn't have many of those. Only one, on my toe, from when the radiator fell on my foot.

"His eyes," the older boy said. "Were they gold?" Gold? Why would my eyes be gold? I'm pretty sure you couldn't change your eye color.

"Gold?" she sounded as confused as I felt. "No. How silly. Luke has blue eyes. Beautiful blue eyes!" The scene faded.

My knees gave out from under me and I fell to the floor. Sam rushed to my side.

"Are you okay?" she asked, panicked. I stared at Hestia, terrified.

"You…what…" I was close to tears. _Don't cry_, I thought. _Tough._ _Don't cry_. "What was that? What did you _do_?" She smiled at me, a friendly smile. She had expected me to be confused.

"Luke, what are you talking about?" Sam asked. "You just looked at her for, like, a second, then you collapsed!" I let out a shaky breath. I managed to my feet and grabbed Hestia's arm.

"Come on," I muttered. I walked us down the hallway, to my room.

"You're lucky I'm a peaceful goddess," she stated once the door was closed. "If you had grabbed, say, my sister Hera like that, you'd be a pile of ash on the floor." I sat on my bed and put my head in my hands.

"What was that? That scene?" Hestia sat down next to me.

"That was a glimpse of the future," she said. "Nine years from now. My nephew Apollo supplied me with it. The older boy is Percy Jackson. Right now, he's only seven years old. The younger one is Nico D'angelo. I'm not going to tell you his age; you'll find out the story soon enough." Hestia was being frustratingly vague about this. Making it difficult. I don't think it was intentionally, though. She was telling me as much as she could.

"What were they talking about, though? My eyes? A scar?" She studied the ceiling.

"By telling you, I could interfere with the future. This is meant to happen, Luke. It may be a painful experience, but it's vital to the survival of the gods." Then, she vanished.

That's right. She vanished. Right into thin air, without leaving a trace.

**Okay, guys, I hope you liked it! Again, I do not own the kitchen scene with Percy and Nico! All of that dialogue is Mr. Riordan's! I just got out my copy of The Last Olympian, and BOOM! Okay, please R&R =D**


	5. AN: Happy New Years!

Hi, guys! This is an AUTHOR'S NOTE! Whoot whoot! I hope everybody had a nice Christmas last week =D Like a Jew, I went and got Chinese food! It was muy yummy. Who got a Snuggie? I love those things.

Also, HAPPY NEW YEARS! Who's staying up tonight?? I AM. Is anyone going to NYC? I'm not (it's way too cold). But I do live pretty close, so wave at the direction of south Connecticut! Okay, guys! Have a happy, safe, and awesome New Year!


	6. Chapter 5

**Hi, guys! I hope you guys had a safe, fun, and happy New Year! Okay, enjoy this chapter =]**

"Oh, my…" I rubbed my eyes. What just happened?

"Hestia? Hey, where'd you go? Hestia!" I searched my room, even though I knew it was useless. I checked under my bed. I heard a knock on the door.

"Luke?" Sam cracked it open and peeked in. What she saw was probably weird: I was crouched down on the floor, my head stuck under the bed, my butt stuck up in the air. I pulled my head out too quickly and smashed my head on the bottom of the bed. "Luke, are you okay? Hey, where's that little girl?"

"Hestia," I corrected her. She opened the door wider and sat down on my bed. "And she's…I don't know where she is." Sam looked at me skeptically.

"She came into the room with you, she couldn't have just disappeared." Would Sam think I was crazy if I told her what happened? I hesitated. Finally, I met her eyes. Regularly, they were a pretty regular light blue. But now, the sun that filtered through the small window slanted in the perfect angle across her face. Her eyes were now an even lighter blue, almost white. I noticed that her straight hair actually curled a bit at the tips, and in the sun, it glowed blonde and red. It was pretty.

I was hyper-aware of everything around me: my quick breathing, that Sam's hand was clenched against the bed. The slightly freckled skin looked like it was going to pop off. _It's my ADHD acting up_, I reassured myself. But I wasn't so sure.

"Sam," I said. My voice was hoarse—with what? Anxiousness? Fear? Puberty? "I don't know where she went. She disappeared. I swear. One second she was here, and the next she wasn't." Sam's usually calm face transformed. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her eyes flashed, and her lips parted, as if she was baring her teeth at me. She stood up.

"Luke Castellan!" She shouted. "You're always hiding things from me, lying! We're _best friends_, Luke. You don't hide things from your best friends. If we can't be truthful with each other, then I can't be friends with you." With that, she stomped out of my room. I sat on my floor, stupefied.

I had never thought about that. We were best friends. I didn't know what that was, since I've never even had a regular friend. But I knew that now.

The front door slammed.

"Sam!" I scrambled to my feet. "Sam, wait!" I ran outside. I saw a glimpse of Sam running down the sidewalk, full speed—or as fast as you can get with a huge backpack on. "SAM!" She stopped. Turned around and looked at me.

Then turned the corner and walked home.

* * *

I sat down on the front step and buried my head in my hands. I needed to do something to burn off my anger. Some kids rode down the street on their bikes. The sun was setting, and it was getting darker by the second. It had been getting darker earlier and earlier. The kids' mom shouted for them to get inside for dinner.

That's it!

I walked into the garage and unearthed my bike. I hadn't used it in about a year. But you just don't forget how to ride a bike, you know? Or I think that was the saying.

The bike was really old. It was my mom's when she was a kid. It was a red banana seat. I wiped the dust off it and hopped on. I didn't bother with a helmet; they made me look stupid anyway.

I sped down the street. Physical activity had always helped me burn off my emotions. I loved the feeling of moving. The stretching of muscles, the working of bones, the sweat that beaded up by my hair. It all gave me a kind of satisfaction—or maybe I was too exhausted to think about anything else.

The sun set behind the trees. It was a brilliant sunset, full of pink and red and orange. Soon enough, it was twilight. I parked my bike next to a tree and sat down. It was a clear but cool night. I looked at the stars. I could see Jupiter. If you didn't know, Jupiter is the brightest thing in the night sky after the moon. It's actually not the North Star. I learned that when I went to camp one summer.

"Luke, I'm sorry."

I screamed like a little girl, and my heart raced. My head snapped towards the voice.

"Oh," I said, disgusted. "It's you again." Hestia sat there. A fire blazed in front of us. I don't know where it came from, and I hadn't noticed her light it. The warmth was nice, though, and I embraced it.

**Alriiiiiight! I'm having a bit of a writer's block thing…hopefully I'll get over it. G'night!**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Wow, lotsa chapters =3 Also, poor Dreez! You should steal your sister's Snuggie. They are amazing. Also, I actually did MATH the other day! * gasp * Actually, I made my dad do it. But whatever. Anyway, I figured that Luke was in 6****th**** grade in 2000, so I'm making some actual relevant statements now =]**

The next week dragged by slowly and painfully. Sam wouldn't even look at me. I guess I kind of replaced her, but not at school. Every day, Hestia talked to me. She told me Greek mythology stories, and the story of my parentage. However, I didn't believe them. They were just stories, right? Stories made up by ancient people—people whose empire fell. So they couldn't possibly be real.

Halloween came and went. I bought candy and everything, but the years repeated themselves—nobody came. My house was the weird one of the neighborhood. Now the buzz of the school was the upcoming presidential election. I didn't really care. It didn't affect me (directly, at least), and Mom never voted. Either she didn't know what was going on or she didn't care. It was a big one, though. The ex-president's son was running for the republicans. The teachers were really into it, since he was born in Connecticut. Actually, he was born a few towns over from us.

After a week of being ignored, Sam finally came over to my lunch table. Silently, she sat down next to me and started eating.

"You've decided to honor me with your presence? I'm glad, it's been getting kind of lonely around here." I grinned at her.

"Shut up, Castellan," she muttered. "There's no where else to sit."

"Look," I said. "I'm sorry. For, you know, keeping stuff from you. I didn't mean to, it's just…my life is really weird." Sam sighed.

"It's okay, I guess." She said. "I know that you've never really had a friend before, so you didn't know the deal." Then, she smiled. "I was getting pretty lonely too."

* * *

I came to school on November 8th, not knowing who won the election the night before. Mom and I weren't really in to the whole "modern world" stuff. She was stuck in the '90's with my dad. We didn't get the newspaper. We didn't have a TV or a computer. I'd find out, though.

"Luke, my mom is really pissed!" Sam exclaimed while walking to first period. "She voted for Gore. She does _not_ want Bush running our country…" She talked on and on. "Hey, who did you want to win?" The question startled me. Only teachers asked that question, right?

"Uh, I don't really care." I shrugged her shoulders.

"Me, neither!" We laughed and walked into class.

It was second period when the snow came. I got to be the kid who let everyone know.

I always picked the window seat, so I could stare outside. Like usual, I was staring outside when I saw big, fat, white things floating past the window. I was baffled at first; I mean, it had been a while since it was winter. When I realized what it was, I broke out into a big grin. Sam nudged me.

"What's with the smile?" she whispered.

"It's snowing!" I shouted. Everyone's head turned, and we smiled like little kids. Snow has that affect on people, you know? I've been living in Connecticut my entire life, and I will never get tired of snow.

The snow kept coming all day and all night. The next day, it was a snow day. I stayed in my pajamas until around noon, when Sam called me.

"First snow day of the year!" She said excitedly. "Wanna go sledding? I have an extra sled if you don't have." It was true. I didn't have a sled. I've never actually been sledding. Mom, being Mom, was oblivious to her surroundings. I didn't have any friends to bring me. I did have snow pants, though. She listened to my complaints about being cold on the playground. I hoped they still fit.

Sam picked me up at one. We went to the biggest hill in our town. Everyone goes there to snow during the winter. She handed me a blue saucer sled. She had her own purple one, and Max had a blue rectangle sled with a string in front of it. I guess it's easier to carry it back up the hill.

Before soon, I couldn't feel my nose or lips, I was covered in snow, and I was freezing.

But I was having the time of my life.

I sat down next to a tree to rest. A boy came up to me.

"Hey, mind if I use your sled?" He asked. "I don't have one."

"No problem," I said back. He had blond hair, a bit lighter than mine and way longer, and blue eyes. He looked about thirteen. Actually, he looked just like me, down to the eyebrows. I frowned.

"Thanks," he said. "Watch my bag?" He plopped a big messenger bag down next to me. I nodded. He ran off with the sled to find a good spot. I poked the bag. It looked really heavy. I peeked in. It was filled with envelopes and packages. Was he a mail boy? Was that legal? He jogged back to me.

"Wow, I haven't been sledding in a while," he said. I couldn't see his breath, even though I could see mine—and everyone else's. "That was fun. Thanks again!" He picked up his bag and walked away.

**Yay! Just for the record, it can snow that early in Connecticut, especially north Connecticut. And I hate snow. It's like…frozen water! Okay, I hope you guys like it, please review!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Yaaay! More chapters! Also, I found this INSANE video that I am currently listening to. Over and over again. It's called "Upular," you should Youtube it! PM me if you want to know about it, I don't want to make this too long. Enjoy!**

I quickly forgot the boy. I climbed into Mrs. Nicholson's car at the end of the day so she could drive me home. The sun was already setting. I sat in the back with Sam. While looking out the window, I caught my reflection and remembered the boy. He hadn't even told me his name.

"Hey, Sam?" I said. "Remember that boy while we were sledding that bumped into you?" It was true. Sam had walked into the boy while he was walking back up the hill with my sled. He had helped Sam up.

"No," she said, frowning.

"What do you mean, no? You, like, almost fell down the hill, and he grabbed your arm!" She shook her head.

"Describe him,"

"Okay," I said, thinking. "Blond hair, a little bit longer than mine, past his ears, curly. He had blue eyes, I think, and he was maybe thirteen?" She shook her head. I didn't understand. She shrugged.

"I fall down a lot, Luke," she said, giggling. "I wouldn't remember." But still, I was worried.

* * *

I dragged myself into the house. I couldn't believe how exhausting sledding could be! The kids in the hot chocolate commercials always looked so vibrant after they went sledding. Well, I guess that's because they're just commercials, but still!

"Hello, Luke!" Mom said brightly. "You know, your father visited me today."

"That's great, Mom." I muttered. I stripped off my wet snow pants and hung them on the kitchen door with a towel under it to dry.

"He said he saw you sledding," she continued. I froze. "You're such a nice boy, letting him borrow your sled." She beamed proudly. I slowly turned around.

"He…he was the boy?"

"Well, gods can take whatever form they want to," she explained. I didn't want to hear any of her nonsense anymore.

"I'm going to my room. Goodnight."

"Do you want any dinner, sweetie?" Mom called. I ignored her, stomped down the hallway, and threw myself onto my bed. I peeled off my cold clothes, put on some flannel pajamas, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

I dragged myself out of bed the next day, especially reluctant to go to school after such a fun time the day before. School dragged on and on until it was finally lunchtime. I plopped down into my seat gratefully and opened my lunch bag. Someone sat down next to me.

"Hey, Sam," I said groggily. "What's—aack!" Apparantly, it had not been Sam who sat down next to me. Sam was on the other side of the cafeteria, frozen in her spot, staring at me. It was Frankie Martinez.

I think that Frankie had been held back multiple times, since he was about the size of a sixteen year old. He had black, spiked-up hair and wore chains on his jeans. Classic bully. He usually beat up the scrawny little kids in sixth grade. I never expected to get beat up by him, since I was pretty tall for an eleven-year-old and stayed out of his way. But I was wrong.

Frankie had grabbed my t-shirt and lifted me up. Literally, my feet were dangling about a foot in the air. My apple had slipped out of my hand and rolled onto the floor. There goes my lunch.

"What's up, punk?" He asked.

"Frankie, let go of me," I responded. I struggled at his fist, but he was just so much bigger than me.

"No thanks," he growled. "I'm hungry. I want lunch."

"It's right there, on the table!" I said. My voice went up an octave, if that was possible. "See? A sandwich, some Kool-Aid. You made me drop my apple, but—" Frankie smashed my back into the wall. I winced.

"I don't eat kid food." His eyes were turning red.

Wait, what? His eyes, usually brown, were now glowing red. It was like mom's glowing, but scarier, and much more violent.

"I eat _kids_." He dropped me and I slid to the floor. Frankie grew and grew until he was ten feet tall. I looked around for help. All the kids around me seemed to be paralyzed.

"Here," a soft voice said. I recognized it as Hestia's. She slipped something into my hand. "Stab him with it," she said urgently. "This is important. He is _not human_. You are not killing an innocent human being; you are killing a monster. If it makes you feel better, he'll come back to life sooner or later anyway." Then, she disappeared. I looked in my hand. In it I held a little bronze blade. I ran my finger on it. It was sharp.

"Come here, little demigod," Frankie—the monster—said. His voice had grown even deeper. "Time for my snack time. I haven't had a snack in many years." His hand grabbed for me.

"Instinctively, I stabbed at his huge hand—a hand that was the size of me. He roared, rearing his head back in pain. What seemed like sand poured out of the wound.

"You're going to have to do better than that," he laughed. He lunged for me, and I scooted over, just enough that I was within stabbing distance of him, but far away enough that his mouth couldn't get me. I raised the blade and stabbed in the chest with all my strength.

The monster roared. Sand poured out of his two wounds. Then, he dissolved into nothing.


	9. Chapter 8

**You know what I hate? PJ&O/Twilight crossovers.** **[/vomit]**

I sat with my back against the wall, breathing hard and dazed. Everything seemed to suddenly un-freeze. I felt someone nudge me in the rib.

"Dude, I didn't punch you that hard," a voice said. I didn't recognize it, but it was definitely a boy's. I looked over. Standing there was a boy with light, moppy brown hair and brown eyes No one I've never met before. "I mean, your lip split or whatever, but seriously dude. Get up. Jeez." He picked up my lunch and started to walk away when Sam sprinted up to him.

"What's your problem, Jack? He would've given it to you, you didn't have to punch him!" I watched, confused. My last memory before I closed my eyes was me stabbing a gigantic Frankie Martinez. I had closed my eyes for a second. Now, I was even more confused.

"Whatever, kid," the boy—Jack—said to Sam. One of his friends shoved her with his shoulder, and she stumbled sideways a foot or so. She gave them and evil glare. Then she hurriedly walked over to me. She set her stuff on the table and helped me back to my feet. Something sharp poked me in the leg. I ignored it.

"Luke, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine I guess. Where's Frankie?" She looked at me strangely.

"Who?"

"You know, Frankie Martinez? Really tall, spiky hair, was about to beat me up?" She sat down, looking at me like I was crazy.

"No, I don't know a Frankie Martinez, and neither do you. Jack Arnolds just punched you in the mouth." I was struggling to breath. "Oh my gosh, Luke, do you need to go to the hospital or something?" Her eyes widened. I looked down and shook my head. I'd have to talk to Hestia tonight.

* * *

"Hestia, what _was_ that?" Hestia had already been waiting for me in my bedroom when I got home from school. I sat down on the bed. She did too.

"That was a Laestrygonian."

"A Lyra—_what_?" Hestia chuckled.

"A Laestrygonian. A monster commonly found in the north. They can grow to be up to twenty feet tall, and can disguise themselves as human. The live off of human flesh. You know, Odysseus ran into them while trying to sail back home to Ithaca. The king even ate a couple of his men." I stared at her.

"This isn't answering my question, Hestia," I complained. "And what's a demigod? He called me that. And…and what's _this_?" I pulled out the knife from my pocket. "Why didn't Sam—" Hestia shushed me.

"You are a demigod, Luke," she explained. "That's why he called you that. Remember when I told you that the Greek gods are real?" I nodded. "Well, they have children. And you're one of them. Hermes, remember? You've been told that many times. It's true, Luke." I stared at my fingernails. They needed cutting. Hestia continued.

"Monsters hunt down demigods to kill them, because the gods are their enemies. We locked them all up in Tartarus. You haven't seen many in your lifetime yet because your father visits frequently. He just left town, though, so the Laestrygonian obviously felt comfortable about attacking you.

"And that knife? It's made of Celestial bronze. It goes straight through mortals—that is, non-demigods—as if it never touched them. It can only hurt monsters and demigods."

"But what about Frankie? And Sam, she didn't even seem to know what I was talking about." Hestia nodded thoughtfully.

"Ah, the Mist," she said. "The Mist is a substance that restricts mortals' vision so they can't see what's going on around them. Demigods, gods, and monsters are the only ones who can see through the Mist. But that's mostly because it was made to hide them from mortals." She looked at me then, her fire-eyes glowing in concern.

"You're going to have to go to camp soon," she stated, mostly to herself. "Your mother is protective, though. You might even have to run away." My stomach jolted. Run away? Like the scene she showed me a couple weeks back?

"I have to go now, Luke," Hestia said suddenly. "I can't tell you anymore; you'll find out along the way." Hestia disappeared.

* * *

November glided into December. Mom burned the Thanksgiving turkey, like usual. Whenever I went out with Sam, it seemed, a monster attacked us. I spent most of the fight trying to protect a confused, dazed mortal. I think I believed my mom now.

All the leaves on the trees were gone. Skeletal branches imprinted against the gray sky everyday. Winter was a gloomy season. Days passed. Mom burned the Christmas ham. I got a sled from Hermes. At least, that's what the card said.

I went sledding with Sam. A monster attacked. Winter break began.

All during winter break, I kept myself holed up in the house, mostly to protect Sam. _It must stink to have a friend like me_, I thought.

I went over Sam's house on New Years Eve. I took Mom with me so she didn't burn the house down. She chattered with Mrs. Nicholson while Sam, Max, and I watched Dick Clark on the TV. We drank fake booze and wore party hats and cheesy glasses. It was so much fun.

2000 melded into 2001. Winter break ended. I dragged myself back to school. Monsters attacked.

It was February when I finally realized I had to run away.

**Sorry for the boring chapter =\ For some reason, I'm really sore. Which is weird, I'm only fourteen...heehee**


	10. Chapter 9

**WARNING: This chapter has spoilers! If you haven't finished the fourth book, DO NOT READ! Thanks so much for the advice! Hopefully I followed it correctly XD** **Sorry I haven't written in a while. I was busy with dance and dance. Oh, and dance. Whoops, I almost forgot: dance. I dance so much…I'm so sore XD**

I had a plan. In June, when it gets warm out, I would run away. I'll pack all my stuff—which isn't much, just some clothes—in my school backpack. I'll steal money out of Mom's purse; I'm good at that. Wonder why.

There are two flaws with my plan. Number one: It's only February. I'm going to have to endure four more months of monsters attacking, Sam fainting, and Mom being crazy, which I'm not entirely sure I can do. Number two: I have nowhere to go.

I know Hestia talked about "camp," but I didn't know where that camp was, or if I could be in it. I couldn't ask Mom; I was afraid she'd get suspicious. She probably didn't even know about camp anyway.

I often practiced with the knife Hestia gave me. It really was a beautiful knife: the blade was a dark golden color. Smooth black stones were embedded in the hilt. The handle part was made of a deep, dark wood that I didn't recognize. It was now my prized possession. I sparred alone in my room; I surprised myself with it. I was actually pretty good, especially since I have absolutely no training. I kept it in my pocket all the time: at school, in the mall, at home, everywhere. I played with it during class. Sam asked to borrow it once since she didn't have a pencil. I don't know how a knife would help writing, though, so I said no.

School was boring, like usual. I was sitting next to Sam one morning in English—just a normal morning, nothing different. Sam passed me a note.

It said something, but the handwriting was really loopy. It was killer on my dyslexia, but I knew she tried to make it as neat as possible for my sake. I deciphered it as best as I could.

_Happy Birthday!_ My stomach clenched. It was my birthday. I had forgotten it was my _birthday_. What was wrong with me?

_Thanks_, I wrote back. My handwriting looked childish next to hers. I passed it back to her. She passed me something in return. It was a small black felt bag.

"Open it!" she whispered. She seemed excited. I fished my hand around it and extracted a little necklace. It looked homemade. It had alternating black and teal blue beads. There was a bigger tan-colored bead in the middle of the necklace. I opened the clasp and put it around my neck.

"How does it look?" I whispered back. She grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. "Thanks, Sam." I said. I meant it; I didn't get gifts very often. I didn't wonder how Sam found out.

* * *

I'd been having dreams lately. Well, nightmares. The worst two came within two days of each other. The first one was probably the bloodiest. It went like this:

I was running down a stretch of grass. I didn't look like me, though. I was much older—maybe fifteen or sixteen. My eyes were hard, and I wasn't scrawny anymore. Definitely not scrawny. In front of me was a huge tree. Wrapped around it was what looked like a snake.

"Hey!" I yelled. My voice was deeper. I waved my arms. In my hand was a sword, with one side gray and the other the same gold as my knife. "Wake up!" The snake grunted.

"Yeah, you!" The snake twitched and slithered. "Wake up and fight me!" I held my ground as the snake arose.

But it wasn't a snake. It had wings. It was a dragon.

I slashed the dragon's underside with the sword. It screeched and lurched forward. Its talon hit me. I crumpled down to the ground, dropping my sword. My hands flew to my face. The dragon screeched again and went for my back. The orange t-shirt I was wearing tore. I saw myself shake. Then I took my hands away from my face.

The whole left side of my face was covered with blood. Tears of pain dripped out my right eye; I wasn't entirely sure my left eye even worked. After that, I woke up in a cold sweat.

The second one was much less gory, but equally as terrifying. Here's what happened:

A boy was running down a corridor. It was the same boy Hestia had shown me, but he seemed a bit younger. What was his name, Perry? No, Percy. He was wearing an orange t-shirt and holding a gold sword. He barged through two heavy black doors. A golden coffin sat at the end of the room. He ran up to it, terror filling his eyes. He shook his head repeatedly. He came next to it. I could see his breath. He reluctantly brought his hands up to the casket and cracked it open. He opened it wider; he obviously didn't want to see what was inside. Once it was fully open, he squeaked in fear.

Lying inside the casket was a boy. He had shaggy blond hair and a handsome face marred with a long scar, going from his forehead all the way down to his chin. He was maybe twenty. His body wasn't complete, though; there was a hole where his heart should be.

He was me.

After that realization, the rest of the dream seemed to blur together. Or maybe that was just part of the dream. What brought the dream back to focus was a scream of horror. A teenager fell to his knees next to the coffin. He had long-ish black hair and wore an eye patch. Percy turned around. The body—I couldn't think of it being me—was getting up. There was no hole in his chest.

I swung my legs out of the coffin and stretched my arms. Then I opened my eyes.

They were gold.

And that's where the dream ended.

The dreams haunted me for the rest of February. But then I forgot them. I could only remember the feeling of cold terror.

**Okay, I hope you guys enjoyed this story! I realized tonight…Luke was fourteen in 2001 –sobs- Math FAIL! Let's pretend, shall we?**


	11. Chapter 10

**I'm still grieving over my math fail…–sobs- Whatevs XD I'm using that for an excuse for a potentially bad chapter (I haven't written it yet…here I go!) Also: 30 days till TLT comes out! I've been counting down since 35 days XD I'm so obsessed, it's terrible =D**

March is not a good month in Connecticut. Here's what happens: for about a week in February, it gets super-warm, as if it's spring or something. You get that spring fever feeling even though you know what's going to happen. So after that week, it gets super-cold, even colder than January. Then in the beginning of March, it's even colder than _February_, and then it gets all spring-ish in the end. I don't know if it does that in other places, since I've never lived anywhere but Connecticut.

February and March are the bleakest months of the year. February was over (thank the gods), but it was March now. I was itching to get out of the house all the time, even if I was just going on a short walk. I was also angry a lot. I tried not to snap at Sam the hardest I could, but it was difficult. She didn't understand what was happening to me—neither did I, really—but she accepted it. She even tried to make me feel better. We studied together a lot, though.

I know, that sounds weird. Me, Luke Castellan, studying? Is that possible? But it's not like I was studying for the sake of my grades. I was studying Greek mythology. If my father really was a god, I wanted to know all the legends and gods and such. Sam really seemed to enjoy it, too. You had to admit, they were pretty cool stories.

I kept trying to remember the dreams I had in February, but it was impossible. I had those two dreams a lot, but I could never remember them when I woke up. They didn't really help me sleep, though, so I looked pretty bad. I had dark circles under my eyes, and I still hadn't gotten a haircut. My hair hung down past my ears, almost down to my shoulders. I'd never had it that long, and it was actually starting to curl. Up until then, I didn't even know I had curly hair. I was also having a problem seeing because of my bangs. Sam made fun of me because I always squinted or had to swing them out of the way. I kind of liked it, though!

Apparently, the guys in my school weren't such huge fans. They liked to tug at my hair during class.

February passed. In March, I buzzed my hair. By April, it had grown back to the way I usually liked it.

One Sunday in mid-April, I was really bored, so I called up Sam. That's when I realized how detached I was to the outside world.

"What?" she hissed into the phone.

"Uh…I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, but I guess not…"

"Luke!" she exclaimed. "It's Easter Sunday! I have to go to church! My cousins are coming over, remember I told you?" I blanked for a second. Right. Easter. Holiday.

"Yeah…sorry, I forgot." I brushed my hand through my hair, embarrassed.

"Don't you have to be going to church, too?" I heard rustling and yelling in the background. Sam yelled something to her mom.

"Oh, uh, I'm actually not Christian, so no." More yelling. After a couple seconds, she answered.

"Seriously? What are you?"

I had never really thought about it before. My mom and I celebrated Christmas and everything (when she remembers), and that's about it. I didn't know anything about her life before me. She didn't seem to have any family members. And the Greek gods aren't really a religion, more of a belief. And they weren't hypothetical, either. I answered with the first thing that came to mind.

"No idea."

* * *

It was getting warm really warm out. The grass had started poking through the snow a while ago, and now everything around me seemed to be pink. Pink trees, pink bushes, pink people—because of the sudden sun after being tucked away all winter. June approached like a speeding train. It would be here soon: my time to finally go away. My fantasies come true.

Every year, the middle school has an end-of-the year dance. Sam made me sign up to be on the committee with her. Maybe because I had been so withdrawn lately. When she—or anybody else, really—talked to me, I went into what I call "glassy stare mode." My expression would go blank and (obviously) so did my eyes. I didn't pay attention. I think I was trying to separate myself from everyone so it didn't hurt so much to go away.

Anyway, the dance was scheduled for June 1st. School ended the 23rd. The committee started working mid-May. It was now the end of May, and we were working on the gym. I stood on a ladder, stringing paper chain links on the bleachers. Sam climbed up on the ladder next to me and started to help.

"The dance is gonna be awesome!" she beamed. I frowned.

"You're actually going?"

"Of course! I didn't do all this work so I couldn't see it. You're not?"

"I guess I am now." We laughed, but deep down, I was kind of nervous.

* * *

I didn't know what to wear.

I was never into fashion—or even looking good, really—so picking out a special outfit was difficult. I ended up in jeans and a t-shirt. But it was one of those t-shirts with the collars. That's classy, right? Not. Whatever.

Sam's mom gave me a ride. We arrived at the school at seven, when it started. The second I walked in, I regretted deciding to come. Two hours of sweaty, pubescent bodies jumping around me to bad music? That's not really my idea of fun.

Sam and I paid for our tickets, and we headed into the gym.

After about a half hour of standing on the side of the gym while Sam danced with some of her other friends, I went out to get a drink.

It was quiet and cool out in the foyer. I handed over my dollar for a Coke. I popped it open and took a long sip.

"So, you're planning to run away." Coke nearly came out my nose, the voice scared me so much. Sitting next to me was a girl I didn't recognize. She basically looked like every other girl in my school: pretty cute, light brown hair, brown eyes, sort of short but not really. It was the eyes that gave it away, though.

"Hello, Lady Hestia," I said politely, wiping my nose and taking another sip. "You look different today." She smiled.

"Yes, well, I wanted to fit in. An eight-year-old in a dress might stand out a bit at a middle school dance. Also, the shirts are quite comfortable." She giggled. I smiled faintly at her; I wasn't in the best mood.

"How'd you know I was going to run away?"

"You talk in your sleep." I raised my eyebrow at her. "It's not creepy if I'm trying to protect you, Luke." She said, and we laughed. The beat in the gym slowed. Hestia stood up.

"Go in," she told me.

**I guess it wasn't that bad...I started out writing about his hair, then thought, who cares? XD I hope you guys enjoyed =3 30 days…30 days… -does strange dance-**


	12. Chapter 11

**Whee! Aren't midterms FUN? –studies- **

I got up and walked into the gym. It was packed with people and smelled like sweat. A DJ relaxed at his station; he didn't have to do anything but change the song. Easy money, don't you think? Some beat played along to some song I didn't know. I didn't really follow music. Most of it wasn't that great anyway. I stood on my toes and looked for Sam. She waved at me. The song changed to something slower.

The gym seemed to take a breath, than rush around.

"Time for a slow dance for the couples out there," crooned the DJ. I swiveled my head around, searching for the exit, but people smashed into my back and pushed me into the center of the gym. Great, I thought. Now I can't get out of here.

People continued to squish me until I was pressing my chest against someone else's. I turned to apologize, but they spoke first.

"We may as well dance," Sam said. She put her arms around my neck. I felt my face go hot, and she smirked at me. I managed a sheepish grin and put my arms around her. I wasn't very good at dancing, so I just rocked from side to side. It seemed like that was what everybody else was doing, anyway.

"So," I said.

"Just dance," she replied with a giggle.

It was a nice song we were dancing to. It was simple, with an acoustic guitar in the background and a man singing.

The song ended too soon. But Sam and I kept dancing.

Then, she kissed me.

* * *

I tore my room apart packing. I couldn't stay here anymore. Sam had kissed me. I had kissed Sam. I needed to leave so I didn't hurt her anymore. I wasn't even going to wait until sixth grade ended. I was leaving that next morning, a Saturday. I scribbled down two notes. One for my mom that said: _I'll be home for lunch _. I put a smiley face next to it so it looked better. But I was lying; hopefully, I would never come back here. The other note was for Sam.

That night, after Sam kissed me, we danced some more. I knew that every second I spent with her, it would hurt her more when I left. I got home at nine-thirty. That's when I started packing. I shoved all of the clothes I owned, except for the ones I was wearing, into the backpack. I tiptoed into my mom's room and peeked in her shirt drawer, where she kept the money. I counted it out. She said that Hermes supplied her with the money, so I guess it was okay if I took all five hundred and sixty-seven dollars of it. I snuck into the kitchen and grabbed some canned stuff that wouldn't go bad and shoved it into my bag, too. I took a pencil and notebook, just in case. And, of course, my knife.

The morning I left was beautiful. The weather was a gorgeous seventy-five degrees, and the sun was so bright the grass seemed translucent. I walked to Sam's house, praying she wasn't home. My prayers were answered. I set my backpack on the ground and climbed up the tree next to her open window. I slipped the envelope in and it landed, by sheer luck, on her bed. The envelope read SAM it big, neat letters. Well, as neat as I could get them.

I climbed down from the tree and went on my way.

* * *

_Dear Sam,_

_I'm sorry I had to leave. I've been planning this for a long time; it is my fate. I couldn't tell you, or anyone, for that matter. I was planning on going after school ended, but I didn't want to hurt you. I left before we could get too involved. I was putting you, my mother, and our classmates in danger—just by being around. There's something about me that attracts danger, but I can't actually tell you that part. Maybe Hestia will tell you. You remember her, right? _

_ Anyway. I'm really sorry if I hurt, you, but it would have hurt more if I waited—or never left. You have made this, truly, the best year of my life. How many people are lucky enough to get such a good friend? I didn't deserve you, I know. You're such a good person, why should you get such a rotten friend? Well, I guess the best people in the world get the rottenest luck. I'll try my hardest to change that after I'm gone._

_Maybe I'll see you again someday. Or not._

_ --Luke _

That was all of what was left of Luke after he left. I cried in my room for days, and my mother comforted me. She repeated my name over and over, as if it were going to make me feel better. "Sam, Sam…"

But I went on with my life. You can't grieve about those things forever. I never forgot him, though; we both made that year the best for each other. I never thought I'd see him again. I graduated middle school, then high school. My life was flashing before my eyes. Before I knew it, I was living in New York City, going to classes at NYU training to be a nurse.

2009

I took some classes in the summer. I was rushing down the stairs of my apartment because I was a couple minutes late. The noise of the city surrounded me: cars, horns, voices. One voice stood out in particular: it was rough and sounded really mean, but seemed to have a softer undertone, as if it were actually two voices. The voice that was answering sounded no older than seventeen.

I stumbled down the stairs and dropped one of my textbooks. I cursed quietly and bent down to pick it up, but a hand had beaten me.

"Here 'go." It was the boy I had heard talking. He had shaggy, jet-black hair and slightly Asian features. What really stood out, though, was the eye patch he wore.

"Thanks," I said quietly, tucking a strand of mousy brown hair behind my ear.

"Come, Nakamura, you're wasting time." It was the knife voice. I looked up at the direction of the voice. It was a man about my age. He had short, blond hair and was pretty tall—taller than me, at least. A long scar ran across the left side of his face. He blinked in surprise.

"Sam?" His voice changed to that undertone I had heard before. His clear blue eyes stared at me. I could have sworn they were gold a second ago. "Sam, it's me! Luke!" He turned to face me. With shock, I realized it was him. I dropped the rest of my books and threw myself against his body. He had really build some muscles in the past eleven years.

"Luke," I whispered. "I missed you." His whole body seemed to contract. I brought my face to his. His eyes where shut tight and his face was screwed up in pain.

"There's not much time," Luke said through clenched teeth. "You have to leave the city, at least until the eighteenth. Okay? I want you to be safe."

"Why?"

"Something…a war's going to happen. And I don't want you to die." He had let go of me, and his fists were clenched by his side.

"A war? No one would attack New York!" I exclaimed. He shook his head.

"Just trust me." He said. "Please." I sighed.

"Fine," I agreed. "But only if—" Luke shuddered.

"I have to go." He stated. The knife was back. I didn't know what was wrong with him. "Bye. Come, Nakamura." Nakamura scurried after him, and I watched until his head was lost in the crowd.

**Whoa! I think it's finished! YAAAAAAAAAAAY! I really, really hoped you enjoyed my story! Thank you sooo much for reading it! BYE BYE!!**

**Love,**

**Team-percy7!**


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